


like any good gift

by i_am_therefore_i_fight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Samulet Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_therefore_i_fight/pseuds/i_am_therefore_i_fight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Didn't feel like I deserved to wear it," Dean says gruffly, the amulet dangling from his fingers, glinting as it swings. "Should've given it back sooner."</p><p>"I don't want it back," Sam says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like any good gift

Dean pulls it out of his back pocket, and Sam wants to throw up.

“Didn’t feel like I deserved to wear it,” Dean says gruffly, the amulet dangling from his fingers, glinting as it swings. “Should’ve given it back sooner.”

“I don’t want it back,” Sam says.

“Sam. C'mon, man.”

“Throw it away. I don’t care.” Sam turns on his heel. He  _doesn’t_ care, and that hot feeling in his gut is anger, not vomit clawing its way up, not all those nights of dry eyes burning up in him like dead wood catching fire.

 

* * *

 

Dean keeps trying to give it back. He hangs it on Sam’s doorknob, puts it on the table in front of him at breakfast. Sam takes it off his door and goes to fling it on Dean’s bed, ignores it on the table where it sits for two days before disappearing (back into Dean’s pocket, Sam assumes, waiting for the next opportunity, for a moment when his guard is down).

 

* * *

 

“Do you  _want_ me to get rid of it?” Dean asks finally.

“I don’t care,” Sam says.

“You don’t want it back. You can’t want me to wear it. You won’t tell me to throw it away. What  _do_ you want, Sam? For God’s sake. Just tell me.”

 _Who said I didn’t want you to wear it?_ Sam stares at Dean, waiting for an answer to the question he only asked in his own head. Dean stares back.

“I don’t care what you do with it,” Sam says. “Don’t give it back.”

Dean presses his lips together. He gets up from the table and goes to the kitchen garbage can, stepping on the pedal to open the lid and dangling the amulet over it.

“I’m throwing it away,” he warns.

Sam can’t make himself say  _go ahead._ The words would choke him. All he can do is keep his face impassive.

“Here it goes. I’m getting rid of it. Since you don’t care.”

 _I don’t_ , Sam doesn’t say.

“I’m gonna do it, Sam. For real.”

_Go ahead._

“Tell me to do it, Sam.”

_I can’t._

“For God’s sake, Sam.”

_For God’s sake, Dean._

“Tell me not to do this.”

_Don’t._

“Tell me you don’t want me to do this.”

_I don’t want you to do this._

“Just tell me not to, Sam. Sam. Tell me not to and I won’t.”

“Don’t.”

Dean takes his foot off the pedal. The lid closes.

Sam hates him for a second.  _If it was this easy why couldn’t I stop you the first time?_

Dean wraps his fingers around the charm and walks toward his brother. Sam looks down at the table.

“Sammy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What do you want me to do with it?”

“Put it away. Hide it. I don’t care. I don’t want to see it.”

“Are you mad that I went back for it and didn’t tell you?”

“I don’t care.”

“Sam.”

“I said I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry.”

“ _I don’t care._ ”

“Yeah, you do. Sam. Hey. C'mon. Sam… Sammy.”

“Don’t, Dean.”

Dean’s shaking the amulet in his face. “Just fuckin’ take it, Sam.”

“I don't  _want_ it!” Sam pushes away from the table and stands up, looming over his brother, and Dean backs up a step, raised fist closing tighter over the amulet.

“Then what do you want me to do with it?” Dean challenges, his fist close to Sam’s face, the amulet’s string dangling from it.

“I want you to  _wear_ it, you asshole!” Sam practically screams.

Dean freezes. “Wh–really?”

“Yes, of– _yes_ , Dean, for God’s sake, yes, put the damn thing on. I wish you’d never taken it off, you _–asshole,_ you–” Sam struggles to get any more words out, and he also struggles not to punch Dean in the face, fingers curled in so hard that his knuckles are white, but Dean’s slipping the necklace over his head now, and seeing the golden charm fall into the groove of his brother’s breastbone and rest there like it belongs is–is–

Dean wraps his fingers around Sam’s raised forearm, not trying to move him, just holding on. “Sam? We good?”

Sam swallows, his eyes locked on the amulet around his big brother’s neck.

“Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“We okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. We… yeah.”

“You sure?” Dean’s hand drags down to Sam’s wrist, and his thumb moves against Sam’s palm, sweeping over his lifeline.

“Yeah.”

“I won’t take it off again.”

“Okay.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at i-am-therefore-i-fight.tumblr.com/post/95694205153.


End file.
